


Queer Street

by heretothere



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Manager!Duen, Plant Nursery Owner!King, Pro-boxer!Ram
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:06:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heretothere/pseuds/heretothere
Summary: queer street: a term used in boxing referring to a person being in some difficultyStuck in an unexpected suspension, professional boxer Ram is without work for a whole season, at minimum. That is, until his manager sets him up with a friend of a (boy)friend to work at a plant nursery.
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 118





	1. Down and Out

**Author's Note:**

> had this come into my brain right after the second-to-last episode. not expecting this to be that long or complex a fic but I tend to overcomplicate everything my grubby hands touch so lmao we'll see
> 
> forewarning: I know fuck all about boxing or the sports industry in general, but it's not so much the focus. also imagine my delight learning that "queer street" is a term while I was figuring out a possible title.

“You can’t be serious . . .” 

Ram watched Duen clutch the papers tighter in his hands, face so close Ram didn’t believe he could still read them.

He flipped through the documents again, growing more and more agitated.

Ram stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. 

“You said what happened wasn’t a big deal.” 

Ram looked up with sad eyes. 

“Right, you didn’t think it was,” Duen rubbed his eyebrows. “Suspended! A whole season! Have you talked to your coach already? Has he seen this?” 

Ram nodded. 

“Fuckin’ . . .” hearing Duen curse, Ram cringed, “You’re restricted from practicing and training at official sites,” he read off, “what kinda . . . I can’t believe this. I’m putting in a call tomorrow. That’s outrageous. We gotta appeal,” Duen said finally. The emotion seeped off him in waves.

Ram had felt the same earlier - angry, indignant - but as the day had worn on the gravity of it sank in. An appeal would be denied; it wouldn’t even be entertained. There was no point. 

Ram appreciated it, appreciated that Duen would fight for him if he could. Duen would still call tomorrow, try to negotiate, but Ram could already see him sinking back down, his eyes frantically rereading the suspension letter.

“We’ll figure something out,” Duen said with conviction. 

They would figure something out.

Ram could only hope.

***

“I don’t know what he’s gonna do . . .” Duen folded his hands over his face, “I still can’t believe it. A whole season . . . that’s ruinous! And keeping him from working with a trainer?”

Bohn patted his back, “He’ll bounce back. Do you think Ram would really not train at all? He’ll come back strong as ever.”

“Sure, let’s entertain that, but what is he supposed to do in the meantime? What am _I_ supposed to do in the meantime?”

“PR?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Duen flopped back into the couch cushions. “I already have two emails in my inbox for interviews and we just got the letter today.”

Bohn rubbed his boyfriend’s thigh, unable to say anything that would actually make Duen feel better.

Over the next few days, Duen would come back late, and come back tired and aggravated. He’d grumble something, maybe a greeting, maybe complaints - Bohn could never quite hear him- and eat the instant food Bohn had fixed for the two of them. Bohn would lay his hand palm up on the counter and Duen would take it, but the draw between his eyebrows stayed. He’d shower and go to bed first, asleep by the time Bohn entered the sheets beside him.

“Any progress?” Bohn asked, after a week. Duen had been unresponsive to his usual methods of comfort, had been unwilling to be coddled.

Duen let his silverware clatter on the table. He huffed, “No. Nothing has been rescinded, the Committee defends every aspect of his suspension. Press is being a dick.”

“Ram rarely talks to them anyways, right?”

“Yeah, but they’ve hounded him a couple times. I’ve told him to just stay at his place until something else happens, but I know he’s at the end of his rope.”

“Talk to me, babe. What are you thinkin’?”

“It’s not the end-all-be-all, I know that,” Duen shrugged, tired, “He’s got money from the last couple seasons, he should be . . . he should be okay, on that front at least.”

“But?”

“But! I just can’t imagine him being idle. He’ll lose it. He’s already losing it, if I’m interpreting his texts right,” Duen glanced at his phone, “But what can he do? Could you imagine him part-timing a Seven-Eleven?”

Bohn received an epiphany, just then, “You thinkin’ a part-time job?”

“I- maybe? He needs a distraction at the least.”

“Let me make a call.”

***

King picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hey? What’s up?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Bohn started.

“I already don’t like where this is going,” King said but still laughed.

“Just listen! You know my boyfriend is an athlete manager, right?”

“I guess?”

“So, his athlete is off this season, but he needs work. So, you know we’ve been telling you to hire help for . . . well! A while.”

“Uh-huh . . .” elicited slowly from the receiver.

“So consider this - now you don’t have to pay this guy, just give him work, and house him I guess.”

“Uh . . .”

“Come on, consider it!”

“You’re awfully invested in this, whatever this is,” King pointed out.

“My boyfriend is stressed about it and it’s carrying over into our home life. I just want to cuddle,” Bohn complained, “You would be doing the guy a huge favor, and thus Duen a huge favor, and thus me a favor. And I’m your best friend.”

“I’ll think ab-”

“I’ll have Duen call you tomorrow. He obviously has more information.”

“But-”

“Thanks!”

***

King had just sat down to eat lunch when Duen called.

“Hello, King, yes?”

“Yeah, here.”

“Are you free to talk right now?”

“Sure,” he pushed his plate out of the way, “so, what’s up? Bohn didn’t really explain anything yesterday,” he leaned forward onto the table.

“Sorry about that,” Duen signed, “I didn’t put him up to it, I swear. You can just tell me to fuck off,” his voice trailed off.

“No, no,” King protested, “It’s fine, just tell me what the situation is.” King had always had a soft spot for those that needed help.

“So, my client -my friend, his name is Ram. He’s a Muay Thai boxer and he’s suspended this season.”

“Alright . . .”

“He’s a pro-athlete, so he has money, has enough money, so it’s not so much about making ends meet, but . . .”

“He needs something to do?” he stopped Duen’s rambling.

“Exactly!”

“I run a business; my nursery isn’t a retreat,” King made clear.

“I know, I know! I understand. He can work, like, actually work. He’s able-bodied, strong.”

Running a flower nursery didn’t rely on strength, but King didn’t interrupt this time.

“Bohn told me his idea.”

 _Oh boy_ , this was a Bohn idea.

“So, consider him a temporary worker - who you don’t have to pay. So like a . . . a . . . a student?” 

“A student?”

“Yeah! He doesn’t know much about plants, or whatever, but he’s a hard worker! Very focused.”

“Could I talk to him?”

Duen went silent.

“Duen? Duen?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Do you have to?”

“What? Talk to him?”

“Yeah.”

It was King’s turn to pause. “I mean, I guess not?”

“Okay! Cool. Uh, you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Of course, it doesn't have to be those exact terms but . . .”

“You know what, sure.”

“Sure? Yes?” Duen’s voice rose excitedly.

“If you and him want to come down next week, we can try it out. I can set aside a room in my house for him, and we can see how he takes to caring for plants.”

“Really?! Oh my gosh, King, thank you so much, this means a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” King placated with a smile, though Duen obviously couldn’t see him.

Duen left the call after promising to follow-up with the day they would come down.

Only posthumously did King realize he didn’t even ask why Duen’s friend was suspended in the first place. 

***

“You don’t know him?”

King was on a call with Bohn, a video chat, both of their phones propped up on their respective coffee tables. Duen was working late again; Bohn had called in for socializing. King had asked for what Bohn knew about Ram.

The athlete might have been about to spend an indefinite amount of time at his place, but King didn’t know anything about him besides his profession.

“No?” King said, “I don’t keep up with sports,” he said flatly, “Especially, what? Boxing?”

“Well, he’s like, pretty well known. He’s, like, an S rank boxer,” Bohn very obviously didn’t keep up with boxing either. “But look at this from the angle of having someone around. You only have your nephews for a week, but you’ll have this guy for as long as you need.”

“I already agreed, you don’t need to keep convincing me. I just wanna know about him before he gets here.”

King heard a door opening on Bohn’s end. Bohn’s face lit up.

“Hey babe,” he said to the side of the camera.

King caught Duen’s head as it leaned down and kissed Bohn’s hair. “Who are you talking to?” he looked into the phone, “Oh, hi King!” he waved.

King gave him a smile, nod, and his own little wave.

“He was just asking me about Ram,” Bohn said, no filter.

“Oh, great!” Duen said, “I was talking to Ram about next week, is the weekend better? Or maybe Thursday?”

“Thursday is fine. I have to make a lot of deliveries on the weekend; I’m not sure when I’ll be at the house.”

“Great!” Duen repeated, “I do have to say,” he sat down onto his knees to be in frame better, “Ram doesn’t talk much. Don’t take it personally! He’s just like that.”

King didn't know what to make of that either.

***

A week later, Duen was driving out of Bangkok, Ram in the passenger’s seat and his 3 dogs in the back.

“I know you don’t particularly like Bohn, but his friends are nice!”

Ram turned his head to give Duen a flat look.

“They’re a little weird, but nice! King is very normal. Don’t worry, he’s not like Boss.”

Ram turned back to look at the trees they passed. They were really outside of the city. He had already lost track of how long they had been driving.

“I would tell you more, but I’ve only met him a few times, since he lives all the way out here. Bohn really trusts him though,” Duen threw him a glance. Ram had barely said five words to him since the suspension was put in place.

***

King greeted them when they reached the end of his long driveway. 

“Hey! You made it,” he said when they got out the car. 

Duen smiled and folded his hands. “The drive here actually wasn’t too bad!” he laughed.

Ram gave him a bit deeper waii, but didn’t say anything. Duen threw Ram a nervous look. 

“I’m really hopeful for this arrangement. I’m sure you’ll find Ram reasonable to live with.”

"Geez, dude, you don't gotta use the business talk around me, you know?" King patted Duen's arm.

Ram stepped back to get his luggage out. King then saw the motion inside the car. His heart stopped for a half-second. After Ram had set down his suitcases out of the car, he went to the back door and King watched with wide eyes.

“You didn’t tell me he had dogs,” King’s hand clutched Duen’s shoulder, nails digging in. Duen cringed under his hand.

“I didn’t? Is it a problem? Bohn said you had so much land.”

King’s eyes stayed on the absolutely humongous dogs. Why did he have _three_ ? Even one he wouldn’t like, but he’d understand. But _three_? _Three_ dogs? Did he expect them into his house? He couldn’t allow dogs into his house. Fuck, where would he keep the dogs?

King moved to Duen’s other side, still half behind him when Ram walked back over. King couldn’t stop looking at the creatures panting and sniffing, standing around Ram’s legs, looking as if they were clouds.

Ram’s sharp eyes were locked on King. It made King embarrassed. Was this guy making him feel embarrassed when King was the one who had offered up his home?

“Do you mind where your dogs stay, Ram? King wasn’t aware you were bringing them.”

Ram’s eyes went to Duen instead, a bit softer.

“Can they . . .” he looked at King apologetically, “Can they be inside at all?”

King opened his mouth but couldn’t make words come out.

“Maybe just like, Ram’s room, at the least.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s . . . sure. As long as you clean up after them, and they aren’t just . . . wandering around, I guess.”

“Great!” Duen said. Ram finally looked away and scratched the head of the dog closest to his hand.

“Come on,” he borderline-frantically looked between the two of them and the dogs, “I’ll show you your room and the nursery. You’re staying for dinner, right Duen?”

Deun gave an apologetic smile, “I wish I could, I actually have to get back for-”

Ram quickly turned his head to his agent. King looked back and forth between them as Duen rubbed the back of his neck and Ram didn’t blink.

“I have some things to finish working on, today, that need to be done today,” Duen looked directly at King, pointedly not at Ram.

King nodded and shrugged, “If you say so.”

“I’ll grab one of these suitcases though, help you settle in,” he hefted one up. Ram watched him with thin lips. King sidestepped to pick up Ram’s other suitcase, careful to stay as far away from the dogs as he could manage.

With the suitcases and dogs in the room, King could breathe easy again. “Okay,” he put a smile back on, “there’s an AC unit in your room, the remote should be on the dresser. There’s a full bathroom right beside, stocked with towels. I’ll show you where you can do laundry. This is the living room,” he spread his arms out, “slash-dining room-slash-kitchen. If you need help with anything, let me know.” The main communal area of the house was very open space. Higher ceilings, tall windows. A couch separated the living room from the dining room and a counter separated that from the kitchen. 

Ram nodded and Duen looked around impressed.

“Wow, King, even the inside of your house is like a nursery,” he said. It wasn’t an exaggeration. King loved plants! What about it?

“Do you have any flowers I can take back with me? It’s been a while since I brought any back to the apartment.”

“Oh! You never buy flowers from me! Of course, give me a minute,” he held up a hand motioning to them to wait.

“You’ll be fine, right?” Duen asked Ram, when King had gone outside.

Ram looked away, to the door King had left through.

“Ram . . .”

“Yes, it’s good. Thank you.”

“I didn’t want you to get too in your head at home,” Duen gave him a playful nudge.

“You need to take care too,” Ram said. 

Duen sighed exasperatedly, “I’ll be fine. It’s better you’re out here than in the city for me too. It’s unlikely anyone’s going to badger you out here.”

King could be heard before he reentered, loud footfalls on the outside steps. When he came in, he was holding a medium bouquet of fresh-cut red roses. “Special delivery!” he said.

Duen took them with a smile. “They’re lovely! Thanks. How much should I-”

“On the house, don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“Just take ‘em, Duen,” King laughed.

“Thank you. Thanks again for . . . for all this.”

“Like I said, my pleasure. Taking care of plants is actually quite relaxing,” King gave a smile to Ram. Ram's face stayed impassive. 

“Well, I should probably get going. I promised Bohn I would try to get back before too late.” King opened the door for Duen and his armful of roses. They stood near the car as Duen got in. He rolled down the window, “I’ll come visit, with Bohn too. If either of you need anything, let me know! Especially you,” he pointed accusingly at Ram, "Bye!" 

They waved, and he was gone, leaving Ram in King’s care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also did I write a little cute BohnDuen bc of how disappointed I was by their relationship in the show? maybe
> 
> if you have the money/time/resources please consider looking up your local mutual aid fund and helping out! we're in hard times ya'll


	2. Weigh-in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King shows Ram around. Ram shows King not much of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: ah yes i am here to write a silly little fic  
> also me: incorporates no comedy in an entire chapter  
> im a slut for the slowest burns i cannot write anything else

Once Duen was out of the driveway, King passed Ram his phone, “We should trade numbers, in case I’m out and you need to reach me.” When Ram handed it back he sent the cutest ‘hello’ sticker he had immediate access to. 

Ram read it but didn’t reply.

“I can show you around now, and I’ve already done a lot of today’s work. Let’s go!” King waved him along. “So, a boxer, eh?” King stared at him, waiting for an answer.

It took close to a minute before Ram responded mutely with a nod.

“Pretty hot today, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have worn a button-up like you are. You don’t need to dress up like that around here.”

Ram only nodded again when King bent down a little to catch his eyes that were angled down.

He wasn’t much of a talker, was he? Did he not speak Thai well? Was that why Deun said he didn’t talk much?

King led them behind the house, which was in itself a sprawling building. Neither Duen nor King had said anything about anyone else living there. 

On the backside of the house was a raised porch with a grill and chairs at a long table. The yard stretched behind it, everything outlined with bushes or potted plants. Then, the back edge of the yard opened up to rows and rows of plants.

This was the highlight of King’s nursery. Long beds of flowers: roses, lilies, cosmos, gerberas, birds of paradise . . . King knew he could make more money if he specialized in one, if he allowed the kids these days who were obsessed with Instagram come and take photos. He had seen the pages of the lavender fields in Korea, of the parks in Japan filled with cherry blossoms. But, there were just too many flower varieties that he loved, too much that he wanted to take care of.

“Depending on the time of year, and the weather, and how proactive I am, sometimes the flowers are cut before they bloom, to make sure bugs don’t get them as soon as the bulb is accessible or so they don’t immediately wilt when it’s too hot, and sometimes they’re cut right when they bloom, sometimes right before they’re at their best,” King gave hand motions for each of these descriptions, cupping his hands small then spreading out his fingers. 

Ram’s eyes followed his hands then went back up to his face when King stopped talking. Was he talking too fast? Was the language he was using too difficult?

“Then they’re set in water and sorted for delivery. They have to be watered every day, the dirt around the rows is tilled once a week, and weeds close to the base are pulled by hand,” he squatted down and picked the beginnings of a patch of clover out. Ram continued to just move his eyes, nothing more.

King felt like he had to fill the silence. “When it storms I have to do some damage control on the beds, you know, but those are the basics. We’ll come back to this tomorrow.”

Ram was looking out at the expansive flower beds, and eventually back at King, who, again, was looking at him expectantly.

“Cool?”

Ram nodded. 

Good enough.

King led the way to the next fixture. “This is the greenhouse,” he opened the door and ushered Ram in, “I keep the smaller flowers in here, and some that are a little more delicate.” Orchids, ratchaphruek, petunias . . . “I don’t have a sprinkler system in here yet, so they still have to be watered by hand,” he tapped the hose curled up on the ground with his foot.

King ducked out and closed the door when Ram followed. “And lastly,” King spread his arms out as they went to the other side of the yard, to the plot closest to the house, “Vegetables!” The tiny vegetable garden was only a couple years old, but King was proud of it. “I’ve got tomatoes, eggplants, peppers, cucumbers . . . some cabbage there,” he pointed to each type of plant.

Ram looked behind him at the stretches of flowers.

“I don’t sell these; they’re just for me. I give some away, too, when it’s the height of the harvest and there’s too much to eat,” King moved aside some of the stalks, looked at the soil, “It’s harder, you know? Well, I think it is.” He pulled a couple weeds, “Well, different is a better word.”

Ram actually squatted beside him this time, but still didn’t say a thing.

***

Ram woke up at 6, on the dot. He hadn’t been on his training schedule for more than half a month, but he was still at the mercy of his usual habits. There was throbbing behind his eyes, but he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. He laid in bed for 30 minutes then moved to the living room and sat on the couch.

The lights were out, but the early morning sun brought a low soft light into the room. The back wall towards the yard was almost all window, and the blinds were rolled up. Ram took in slow, deep breath after slow. deep breath. 

After being shown the vegetable garden the day before, King had encouraged him back inside to unpack while he finished up what needed to be done outside. Ram had done so and then had taken his dogs out and down the driveway. There was the hiss of bugs, sounds he didn’t hear very often from his concrete-locked apartment, and green, oh so much green, from the trees that bracketed the graveled path.

King had cooked something up for dinner. Nothing fancy, but it was definitely better than the diet of convenience store food Ram had relegated himself to since the suspension. King talked throughout dinner, asked questions that received no answer. Ram hadn’t been able to focus all that much.

When he was laying in bed he thought of King reaching out to Duen, telling him that he didn’t think Ram could stay if he couldn’t say anything at all. Shame had coloured his face. He needed to try, as hard as it was. 

He went to the window and looked out. To Ram, the place looked less like a nursery and more like a botanical garden. Was flower selling really so lucrative? Ram also came from money. Their house had always been big, both the one abroad and the one in a fancy neighborhood of Bangkok. They even had a nanny when he and his brother were younger. That being said, their homes served a whole family, not just a single person.

At 7:30 King walked in from the other side of the house, yawning and stretching. “Oh, you’re already up?” his eyebrows arched high.

Ram nodded.

“Ah right, athlete schedules, right?”

Ram blinked at him but nodded again. His face was impassive but he was surprised that King had guessed part of it, just like that.

“I usually don’t make a lot for breakfast myself, but I’ve got some yoghurt, bread, instant porridge . . .” King moved behind the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room and opened up a couple cabinets before checking the fridge. “You want eggs?” King looked over his shoulder at Ram who now stood on the other side of the counter.

A couple seconds. Nod.

“Great. Milk? Orange Juice?”

No answer.

He held the two cartons up.

Ram’s eyes flickered to the orange juice.

“Cool,” he put the milk back and took out the eggs. “‘Might go to the grocery store either tomorrow or Sunday evening. Or Monday, depends. If you want some stuff you can just tell me. Or write it down. Or come with.”

King set down glasses on the counter while the eggs were sizzling. Ram moved them to the table and poured juice into both. He took the forks that King handed and set them by the glasses.

“Perfect,” King murmured as he cut off the stove and split the scrambled eggs between two plates. They were a bit brown, but Ram wouldn’t complain. When they were done, King held out his hand for Ram to pass his plate and he let them fall into the sink. He gave a firm pat to Ram’s back, “Alright, time to get to work. Let’s get dressed.”

His dogs jumped up a bit when he came back into the room. He looked at them, looked outside his window, looked at his phone.

King’s phone beeped. He picked it up with his shirt only half on.

Ram. _need to walk my dogs_

King slowed down. He had to make the decision to be strict or to be kind. Why did this guy have dogs again?

“Alright, uh, ‘let me know when you’re back,’” he said aloud as he typed. He washed his face and only went into the living room when he was sure Ram was outside. He stood by the window near the door, watched Ram’s back and his three dogs sniffing around down the driveway. 

After he was finally back, Ram met King out on the back porch, light, long sleeve shirt looking more comfortable than the linen button-up he had shown up in.

“Alright, I have to cut some roses for tomorrow,” King rubbed his chin. “I think . . . I think I’m gonna have you work on the greenhouse.” He waved him along like he had the day before. At this time in the morning, it wasn’t quite as hot yet, but inside the greenhouse was always on the side of too warm. He picked up the hose, made sure the spray setting was correct.

“Okay, so, don’t hit them from above with this,” he angled under the flowers, “about this much water, all the way down,” King demonstrated. “Plenty of water, once it puddles, stop. These don’t need as much water,” he motioned up to the hanging baskets, “10 seconds? Again, not straight at them."

He rubbed a dark leaf between his fingers, “Leaves browning, like this? They’re goners, pluck,” he picked it off. “Wilting is okay, just use your best judgment. I’ll come through later anyways. If you see anything strange, just let me know. Got it?”

Ram looked at the hose in King’s hand, up to King, down the rows of plants, and back to King. He nodded.

“Great,” he handed the hose over. “I’ll just be out there if you need anything,” he pointed his thumb behind him, “Or,” he patted his pocket where his phone was, “you can call. Fighting!” he held up a fist before leaving.

Working in the greenhouse wasn’t necessarily hard, but it wasn’t completely mindless work either. Ram had to make sure he didn’t fuck up the flowers or overflow them with too much water. The hose wasn’t long enough to do it all at once, and he had to calculate where he had to pull it to get all the plants in the back.

It was weird pushing back flowers with the hands he used to fight. He felt like he should have softer hands. He didn’t belong here.

No. No thoughts like that yet. He hadn’t even been here 24 hours. This was fine. There was no one to tell him he didn’t belong here. Except for King, if Ram did a poor enough job.

There wasn’t much for him to do after watering. He didn’t think it was all that much, but even with watering and just checking each set of flowers, it had been more than an hour. He raked his eyes once more over the blanket of flowers before he left.

King was standing over a white rose bush with flowers that were still rolled up small. He had on black gloves and ran his hand over each stem before choosing where to cut. Beside him was a cylinder tub with white and pink roses sticking out. 

“Oh, you’re done?” King said when he noticed Ram walking closer

Nod.

“Cool, uh, hm,” King looked down at the rose bush he was in front of, “uh,” he looked down at the bucket of roses. “I thought I would be done cutting by now. Can you pull out the hose for these? It’s over there,” he pointed. “Start going down the cosmos and gerberas. Water as much as you think they need, then do that much again.”

Ram pointed at the bundles of yellow flowers and the stalks of the warm-coloured gerberas, looked back at King for confirmation.

“Yeah, exactly.”

Nod, and he walked to do as King instructed. King watched him unfurl the hose and monitored how much he was watering. He sprayed back and forth over the soil of the cosmos, a reasonable amount before moving on. King looked away, counted the roses he had already cut.

He took over the hose from Ram when he had cut enough. “Move those for me, would you,” he smiled, motioning to the buckets. “Just up on the porch, I’ll cover them up before the night.”

Dinner was a little more interactive, if only slightly. King had started to ask more yes or no questions. Ram still didn’t answer all of them, King spoke too fast for that, but he got acknowledgments to a few, about the greenhouse plants, about the food, but that was it.

***

King’s usual delivery days were Saturdays and Sundays. Sometimes Fridays, sometimes Mondays . . . it depended on the shops in the nearby towns, but the transporters into Bangkok had a tighter schedule.

Ram was up at the early hour without a complaint and had helped load up King’s van with the roses, some lilies, and some of the potters from the greenhouse. King was used to a rushed half an hour of carrying plants, but with Ram’s help, it only took a portion of that time. It was early, but King drove out anyways, leaving Ram at the house while he disappeared for most of the day.

Weekends were exhausting. Driving, talking, then coming home to water and manage the plants just like during the week.

Wait, he had help now. At the end of the driveway, he parked and texted Ram. That was why he was there right? 

No, technically it wasn’t, not for Ram, but it was what King was getting out of it. 

Distraction. Help.

Something like that.


	3. Peekaboo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another week passes, King and Ram get a little more used to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update a little later than i hoped but! not as much of a wait as the one before it lmao  
> i try not to write too much reflective fic bc 'show dont tell' blah blah and im tryna back everything up but something about ramking just yells reflection. their story's so full of yearning, it just comes across as major aspects of both their characters  
> also @ everyone who left a comment: I appreciate you <3

Sunday and Saturday functioned the same. It had been like that for years, the cycle of load, deliver, cut, sleep; load, deliver, cut, sleep. 

Preparations for Sunday were easier when the flowers were already watered by the time King returned. When he pulled up, he just parked and immediately went to the back to focus on cutting the roses and lilies he would need for tomorrow. There was no point going inside when there was still work to do.  The light in Ram’s room was on, but the curtains were drawn.  Dinner was late and quiet. King was tired after driving and talking to the shop owners and truck drivers all day. 

Sunday morning was a mimic of Saturday’s. Without a word, Ram came out at the same time, they ate breakfast in silence, and Ram helped cart over what King had marked on the back porch and the greenhouse.  Sunday evening wasn’t as rushed. Monday he would only be making a couple local deliveries before noon.  He walked through the greenhouse, humming to himself while he looked at how the smaller flowers were doing. 

He had no specific additions from Ram in regards to groceries, and Ram had declined to riding along. When he returned Ram was bringing his dogs inside. King waited in the driver’s seat for five minutes before walking inside with the bags. Ram was on the couch, waiting. He took one hand of what King was carrying, not saying a word.

Having Ram around was strange.

King started the nursery upwards of seven years ago. While it had changed over time, from what kinds of flowers he grew, to how expansive it was, he had always been here on his own. When it was still a small operation, he had worked the counter of a shop in town to break even.

At that time, he did have to socialize every day, and that had been fine. King was good with people.

The older woman who owned the store was a widow with no children, and frequently made references to eventually leaving her shop to King. It was a cute storefront in the closest town. It would be nice, but it wasn’t what King was interested in. Not right then, at least. 

He liked whole-selling a whole lot more. The smaller stores loved him because he favoured them and he was friendlier than the employees of the big factory-esque gardens. He got to grow what he wanted, within reason. He lived how he wanted.

It was his own place, and he loved it. The flowers, the country, the independence.

It was still his place, technically, but Ram was there now. A live-in employee. A friend of a friend. Someone who needed something. A student, in a way? Once he had enough connections to work solely from his own home, the women in town, his friends, and even his family asked when he was going to hire help, especially as he built the greenhouse, as he stopped making monthly trips into the city because he always had so much to do. He could handle it, though. 

As might be clear by now, King hadn’t even wrapped his head around what he could do with another set of hands at the nursery, but he had even less understanding of who Ram was.

Ram himself was strange.

He was different from Duen, different from Bohn, different from their other friends. Different in the way that if they had been classmates, King would have tried to befriend him out of curiosity. If they had been classmates, King doesn’t know if Ram would have given him the time of day.

Ram was interesting. Quiet, stoic, deliberate. There was a huge tattoo on the side of his neck. It was a challenge not to stare at it while they ate meals. King had gotten glimpses of another tattoo on his forearm, could see it faintly when the long-sleeve shirts Ram had been wearing were thin enough.

“Do you intentionally put on this cool guy facade?” King asked over dinner.

Ram looked up, raised an eyebrow.

“You know, you act a bit too cool to talk, aloof, mysterious. I can list more adjectives if you want. I don’t know how big your ego is.”

Ram shook his head, but maybe,  _ maybe _ , there was a curl to his lips.

“No to it’s not intentional? Or do you not agree with my descriptions.”

Ram shrugged. Whatever King wanted to think, it didn’t seem like it mattered to Ram.

***

When Ram came out of the greenhouse the next day, King was sitting on a set of the back porch’s steps. One of the decorative flower pots was pulled up between his legs.

“Oh hey,” King said when he came closer, “You done?”

Ram nodded.

“I’m just neatening these up. I kinda forget about them, you know?” Beside him was a pile of wilted, brown flowers and shriveled up leaves. He was focused on studying each branch and plucking accordingly.

King spoke as though he let these particular plants waste away, but there were still large, green stems overflowing past the edge like a waterfall.

Ram lifted one branch up. He glanced at King’s hands and then back down to the stem in his own. He pulled off two leaves. King slowed, still working, but watching simultaneously. The longer that went by without being correct, Ram got more confident and moved onto another. And another.

“Just be careful,” King said, “or else you might-”

A whole stem cracked off.

“That.”

Ram held up what had broken in his hands. Two flowers, a couple buds, and the dried leaf at the bottom he had been trying to separate. He was already mentally shutting down, waiting to be scolded.

“Just put it in the pile,” King gestured his head beside him, as his hands were still occupied, “It’s not a big deal."

Ram snapped his eyes over to King, but the other was back just looking at the pot. He tossed the branch down.

The next morning, holding the back door open for Ram, “I think I get it now,” King said. 

Ram didn’t know what he was talking about, and was half-prepared for it to be nonsense.

“I went through the greenhouse Sunday-” oh,  _ now _ he was going to be told off “-and I noticed that you haven’t been trimming them, not thoroughly.” He opened the greenhouse and entered first, “Maybe it's a little daunting, but it is necessary. Of course I don’t want you to overdo it, but you don’t have to be afraid of them either. They won’t bite, or these don’t,” he laughed. “If you pick off more than you wanted to, it’s not the end of the world. Flowers die. Things get broken. That’s simply how it is.” 

They worked on a section of peonies together. Ram had the opportunity to watch King work out of the corner of his eye and copy him, and King would stop every few minutes to look at the planters Ram had made it through.

It was almost companionable.

***

King had been worried the boxer would get bored after the first week. In the beginning, it would be novel, and something to do above all. It was something his manager came up with and he was going along with it because it was in his best interests. But something being in your best interests doesn’t make it enjoyable, and not all are suited for the type of work or lifestyle King has.

Ram worked, and worked well. Once King had corrected him in the greenhouse, he was in there considerably longer but didn’t look aggravated about it. King didn't think so, at least. King himself was expressive, showed everything even if he didn’t mean to. He had to read between blurry lines to interpret Ram.

But it was good. So far.

That being said, it had been a week, and Ram had not said a single thing to him. The few times he had needed something, he had been far enough away to justify texting, and King wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled it out while they were face-to-face.

When Ram took his dogs out, he would hear the rumbles of a voice. Quiet murmurs to his pets. 

What if he was a wolf-man? And simply couldn’t speak human language because of the limitations of his vocal cords? That would be pretty nuts.

Once, King was turning off the lights in the living room and he heard something he couldn’t recognize. His paranoia made his hair stand on end. After a few minutes, he traced it down the hall and up to Ram’s door. The sound was a low voice, carrying just enough that with everything was turned off in the silence of the countryside King had heard it down the hall. He had probably been on the phone.

“I know you can talk.” It wasn’t the best dinner table conversation. Please excuse King’s manners, he had been living on his own for a while.

Ram just raised an eyebrow. Ram limited his communication to subtle facial gestures and meaningful looks. What an enigma. It would be cool if it wasn’t just them around day-in-and-out.

“Come on, I have no idea what your voice sounds like.”

Ram pulled out his phone. Rude. King’s phone pinged.  _ Why do you need to know? _

“What if you hurt yourself and call for help? Maybe I won’t come because I’m worried it’ll be a trap set up by a kidnapper.

Ram kept eating. He wasn’t even going to entertain King and his concerns. Rude!

“Just say something,” King pressed.

Ram slowly chewed his mouthful then said, very deliberately, “Something.”

“Something else, obviously.”

“Something else,” a pause, “obviously.”

“What are you, seven? You know what I mean.” King had expected his voice to be deeper, for some reason. It was nice nonetheless. 

Ram blinked a few times, but had gone silent again. This time, it was in a calm, matter-of-fact way, rather than the on-edge discomfort that had come with the first couple of days.

“Humph,” King crossed his arms. Even that didn’t break Ram. Unbelievable. They ate the rest of the meal in silence. King was sulking, just a little. He didn’t like to be outdone.

Eventually he stood with his bowl and held out his hand, “You done?”

“Yes, thank you.” Ram only looked up when King didn’t take the bowl he was passing.

“Nice,” King smiled, amused, and finally took Ram’s dish. Ram’s expression didn’t change throughout it all, but his face had pinkened a bit on the heights of his cheekbones.

***

King stood in the kitchen, washing the pan and plates that had been used during breakfast. On the other side of the house, a door opened and a cacophony could be heard pattering on the hardwood floor.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Ram stopped at the door with his three dogs and patted his pockets. Ram turned, eyes flicked up once to King and immediately down to the counter. His phone was resting on the corner; he had left it there when he set the table.

If King was a normal person, he probably would have walked Ram’s phone over to him, or have made the unnecessary observation that his phone was next to him. He couldn’t really form the words though, as it was too early in the morning, and he was much too distracted by Ram’s imposing-looking dogs.

Ram was walking over, his beasts in tow.

King vaulted over the kitchen counter. He pushed his back against the wall.

Ram was staring at him, his phone now in his hand, and his dogs around his legs, restless. They were much too close to where King had been standing before.

King waited for Ram to go, so he could get back to his own morning routine, but the other man hadn’t moved. 

King wanted to give a heavy, long-suffering sigh, but the air was still caught in his throat, “I guess I have to admit, I’m afraid of dogs.”

A couple of blinks. 

Was that so hard to comprehend?  “I was trying to act like I’m not, but I am. It’s fine just, please go ahead on your walk.”

He was able to let out the breath lodged in his chest when Ram finally listened and went out. He hadn’t felt like that in a while. Usually when he did see dogs, he wasn’t caught off guard in his own home while he was recovering from sleep. This was not too far off from a nightmare situation for him.

Then who would Ram be then, in this case? The beast tamer? A savior?

***

Ram hadn’t expected King’s problem with his dogs to be a phobia.

He knew there was a problem. It was hard to ignore King's angry whispers to Duen, the glare he had given his dogs when Duen was trying to compromise.

He figured King would have issue with the dogs tracking in dirt or digging up flower beds. He figured since King lived in the country he didn’t have any issues with animals, even if he had none himself. 

Then again, Ram understood animals, but he didn’t understand plants, so maybe that went both ways.

“Hey, cool guy! Come help me with this!”

King was back from carting deliveries, his van pulled up closer to the greenhouse. Ram watched from the door as King opened the vehicle’s back door. The bed was divested of the flowers that had filled it earlier, but now there was a pile of planks.

King pulled out the first armful, “Just set them down, push ‘em close to the wall though." Ram was still watching as he laid them on the ground. “If we get the time, we can set up a yard, if you’d like, if your dogs want to be outside.”

Ram didn’t look up, just blinked at the wood in the van. They were going to build a fence?

“I feel bad, about the other day.”

He was sorry . . . that he was afraid of Ram’s dogs? And wanted to make them a yard?

“We’d have to plot it obviously, I don’t want it to be  _ all _ of this, you know. That would take much too long anyways.”

“Thank you,” Ram said, quietly.

King just gave him a grin in response.

***

“You’ve been there more than a week. You still sane, being outside the city?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you getting along with King?”

“Yeah.”

“Ram, work with me,” Duen’s voice became a bit more exasperated.

“Sorry. It’s good. It’s work, and I don’t hate it.”

“Are those the most positive things you can say?”

“King is . . . accomodating.”

“You’re not taking advantage of him, are you? He’s very generous and I don’t want-”

“No, Duen, of course I'm not. I wouldn't do that.”

“Good, good. I know, sorry, I’m still highstrung. But, before you say anything, it is better than before. You being out there has made a difference.”

Ram nodded before he remembered he did have to speak on the phone. “Good.”

“Maybe soon we can have a get-together, when I’m a little less busy. Bohn was whining how I’ve gotten to see his best friend more recently than him. If I say something he’ll probably plan it all out himself. King kinda just goes along with him, sometimes.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Then it’s settled. I can be the one to bring it up. Maybe I can get some of our other friends to come, especially if it ends up being an event.”


	4. Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Ram and King are impressed by each other in different but similar ways, also there's a barbeque.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> later than intended update! I got a job and had a lot of training and started and ultimately overall a lot less time and energy. still pushing this along with some other fics on my metaphorical stove  
> very appreciative to any comments/kudos that have been sent this fic <3

King was leaning over the counter looking at his phone. The video he was watching was at max volume.

“ _Both fighters are in the arena. The match between Ram and Cash will start as soon as both competitors get into stance._ ”

Ram’s blood went cold. He stopped on the other side of the counter, straight-backed. When King noticed him, he smiled. Instead of switching the phone off, King spun it around and moved to stand beside him. 

“I was curious, you know, since you haven’t talked much- or at all- about your job. So I looked up a video,” he swiped the video down to show the search results of “ram muay thai fight.” The top result was the video that was playing now. He flipped it back to full screen. 

King's nonchalance dissipitated the panic that had set in. This was all King had seen.

He looked down at the phone. Ram remembered the fight. Cash had been a rival of his for a couple years. They had been constantly compared to each other, starting out the same year. This was the fight Ram had overtaken him in and set himself out as _the_ rising star.

Ram pressed closer, shoulders touching. King could no longer focus on the video. Ram was as entranced by it as he had been. King would have to watch it again later.

When it was over Ram turned off his phone for him. 

King snorted, “What, worried I’ll become your fan?” King mimed holding up a sigh, “Go Ram! You’re the best! Beat that guy up!”

Ram rolled his eyes and moved away.

***

King pushed his hair out of his face. He needed a haircut soon. If he left it for another two weeks he‘d be able to tie it into a tiny ponytail. 

He wasn’t as vain as he had been in high school or in his one year of university, not with no one to show off to. He could just shave it all off - really, he could. That morning he popped the lowest guards onto his razor, but had reconsidered before actually going through with it.

He looked over to Ram crouched, silently weeding while King was cutting roses. “Can you cut hair?”

Ram looked up with a raised eyebrow. King held up a couple strands between his fingers as though that would be sufficient explanation.

“I just want to shave it off.” That made Ram raise his other eyebrow. “Or, most of it. It's too hot, it's gotta go. If I do it myself I just have to go all in, you know?” 

Ram nodded slowly. 

“Can you . . . help?”

Ram’s hand fidgeted over the handle of the spade he was holding, but he nodded again.

King smiled. 

After dinner he directed Ram to the bathroom closest to the living room, the one in Ram’s hallway. He hesitantly handed Ram the razor. “You’re not going to use this as an opportunity to take revenge on me or something, right? You haven’t hated me this whole time and are going to enact vengeance on my hair, are you?”

Ram’s face in the mirror was enough of an answer.

“Sorry, I’m nervous.” His hair didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. It usually didn’t. He kept silent the entire time Ram worked and let Ram tilt his head with nudges nudges from his fingers.

When he was done, King ran his hand over the spiny barely-there hair on the side and then into the shortened amount still on top of his head, “Oh, this is . . . nice.” It was much nicer than he was expecting. “Have you cut hair before?”

Ram nodded.

King nodded in response to Ram’s nod, not expecting any further explanation.

“I have a brother.”

“Younger? Older? Sorry, I forgot to ask a yes or no question. Younger?”

Ram stared at him by proxy through the mirror and nodded again.

“You cut his hair?”

Nod.

“Do you have any other siblings?”

A shake of the head.

“I have five sisters,” King tilted his head and looked at his undercut from more angles. “Unfortunately- scratch that- _fortunately_ , none of them ever cut my hair.”

Ram brushed the towel over the back of King’s neck again.

***

The dog pen was going to take some time.

King enjoyed taking on new projects when he could, but it didn’t make the work any less hard, and it obviously had to come second to the standard work of the nursery, coming after all the watering and cutting and general maintenance.

One edge of the fence would be close to the tree line, enough that in the afternoon there was a chunk of shade that would reach over into it. King was digging the holes for the posts and Ram was setting them. It was intensive enough that King didn’t feel the need to chatter. He was grunting with every push of shovel into the ground, though it was more out of dramatics than anything.

In the shade it was cooler, but still hot and humid. Ram took off his outer shirt. King glanced up, and was greeted by the planes of skin on Ram’s arms and upper chest. The rest of his torso was barely covered by the thin tank top that had been underneath. He was buff. Of course he was; he was a professional athlete.

It was easier to see the arm tattoo, a wolf head over some geometric design. Over the low cut of the tank top there was the peak of another peeking out. King wondered how many he actually had.

Ram caught him looking and merely raised an eyebrow and leaned on the post he had just stabilized. 

“Nothing,” King said but didn’t look away. When he looked back down, he realized he had just refilled a hole in his distraction. 

It was true King had just recently seen a video of Ram in nothing but drop-crotch shorts and a padded helmet, but it was different in real life, up-close, glistening . . . versus the tiny screen of his phone.

It was interesting. Was interesting an okay word to use, here? Ram was interesting, but was his body? Why was King thinking about his body? Stop that!

King pushed the shovel in too forcefully at an odd angle. The pull up brought an insignificant amount of dirt and made King trip backwards.

He barely caught himself, stumbling into a wide stance. He looked back up at Ram, who was already reaching out a hand in case he needed to help King up.

King threw his arms out to his sides mimicking a referee doing the motion for “safe,” even if the shovel in his hand messed with the effect. 

Ram scoffed. Chuckled? A win, either way.

***

“We’re gonna have a cookout this Saturday!” King announced.

Ram already knew; Duen had messaged him the day before.

“Your manager’s gonna come with some of your other friends? Maybe he already told you. Some of my old friends too, and Bohn, who is my friend, yeah. Just so you know.”

Later that evening, King was standing on the back porch, looking out over the yard and the nursery, body partially tilted towards the half-constructed pen.

Ram had just gotten out of the shower, and the stove light was still on even though all the burners were off. He tilted back the top of the pot even though he could tell it was curry by smell alone.

He opened the door and the noise made King jump and turn back to him. King gave another look to the yard before giving a grin and coming inside.

The next few days were more frantic.

“I still have to meet a truckman Saturday morning but I’m going to take the local deliveries Friday night,” King was talking while he was walking, and Ram had to pay attention to keep up. King had a pair of plant snippers in his hand. He stopped suddenly and zoned in on the half-bloomed buds of a rose bush. “I’m going to go buy meats tonight before the grocery closes so I need you to do at least the watering on what you can outside the greenhouse and-” King looked up, surveyed the bushes. “Yeah.”

Ram had to infer that he was dismissed. King wasn’t looking at him and didn’t say anything more.

When Saturday did come around, Ram was yawning the entire time between getting up and finishing watering outside. He wouldn’t admit to speed-running his responsibilities, but if he could catch a nap before-

The front door swung open.

“Back!” King shouted. How he looked so peppy, Ram really couldn’t understand. He could barely manage his own facade for so long. King immediately went to the kitchen and started pulling stuff out. “We should have a light lunch and-” a pot lid clanged as he took out a pan, “-then we can prep a bit for the barbeque and I’ll go out to the beds and you can-” he looked up, “You can take a nap, then, if you need to.” 

Ram slowly moved into the kitchen. Despite its regular occurrence, Ram still felt like the rug was being pulled out from under him every time King was the slightest bit accommodating. 

“I’ll heat up what’s leftover from yesterday, do you mind cutting those vegetables?” King tilted his head down to the counter where there was a bag of cabbage and a vine of tomatoes. 

Ram pulled out the cutting board from the rack behind the sink. 

Ram had only been around for a couple weeks, but he had quickly learned King was not the type to go by halves. Nothing made that more obvious than watching how he prepared for hosting a “casual get-together.” He had set out lights on the railing of the back porch and Ram had noticed him neatening on the decorative planters in the low light of dusk turning to dark.

Ram escaped to his room after lunch. One dog was splayed out in the tiny sliver of sunlight that titled through the window in the middle of the day. He flopped down on the bed and one of the others jumped up to lay its neck over Ram’s legs. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He was woken by a knock to his door, “Hey, Ram? I’m not gonna come in, you know, privacy and all, and dogs, but everyone's gonna be here soon.”

Ram neatened his shirt and brushed his hair back.

He came into the living room just as two cars pulled into the driveway, visible through the windows. King held the door open for him. 

Out of Duen’s car stepped Tingting from the passenger’s seat and Phu from the back. The second car carried Bohn and two others, only one of whom he recognized. King’s smile was radiant as he hopped off the porch to greet his friends. Ram followed him with his eyes before more calmly going to his own.

“You never visit us anymore, you ass!” all of them could hear the friend Ram didn’t know shout, “Oh wow, did you get your hair cut? It looks great!” the someone else said, and the chatter of that group increased as they tried to talk over each other. Tingting threw an arm over his shoulders, distracting him, “You haven’t even sent us any texts, what’s the deal?”

“Sorry,” he murmured.

She jostled him, “It’s okay. Just, you know, anyways! You look healthy,” she gave one of his cheeks a couple pats. “Tang wanted to come but he had to go into the office today.”

Ram gave a quiet sympathetic hum. 

Phu gave an exaggerated stretch, “The drive here was so long,” he complained, “My grandma’s hometown isn’t even this far from Bangkok.”

King rounded them to the back of the house to the back porch and Tingting audibly gasped at the flowers. “Oh my gosh, your place is so pretty!”

“I did tell you he has a nursery,” Duen said. Most everyone took a chair; Ram had pulled out a seat, but watched King move to the door.

“I’ll bring everything out,” King said, and Bohn jumped up.

“I’ll help.”

Ram slowly sat down between Duen and Tingting.

“How have you been?” Duen poked him with his elbow, “Good?”

Ram nodded, “Yeah, good.”

Duen seemed satisfied enough with that answer.

“So you’re working here now? Have you learned a lot about flowers?”

Ram gave her an uncertain hand gesture, “Not really.”

As soon as King and Bohn were back out, King called out, “Get over here, Duen. I know you’re a good cook! Bohn talks about it all the time,” he motioned Duen over with one hand to the grill.

Ram settled back into his seat, watching King chatter loudly to Duen, and to Bohn who was leaning on Duen. Tingting and Phu were already talking about something else that he eventually tuned back into.

Bohn let go of Duen because “It’s dangerous over here! You can’t hold onto me,” and had faux-sulked back to where Boss and Tee were lounging. Silence fell between King and Duen.

“How has Ram been?” Duen glanced over at King, “I’ve been meaning to text or call but . . .”

“You don’t want to be but so overbearing?”

“Something like that.”

“He’s been great, to answer your question.”

“Really?”

King half turned to him and gave him a questioning look, “Yeah?”

“Do you talk?”

“ _I_ talk, certainly. Ram . . . a little.”

“That’s fine?”

King gave him another look, lingering this time. “Yes? I ramble, but not everyone does, and I get it. Or, I get it enough.”

Duen nodded.

“You’re not going to tell me ‘this means a lot’ again are you?”

Duen’s eyes went comically wide. “Now I’m not,” he stuck out his tongue. 

Everyone eating together was loud. King watched Ram as he nodded to things Tingting said and could just barely hear the rumbles of hums when Boss wasn’t basically yelling beside him.

“It’s been so long since you guys have been out here. How’s the husband, Boss?” King hit his friend’s back.

Boss groaned, “He comes back soon. He’s been abroad for three months and I haven’t been able to visit,” he flopped his arms onto the table to sulk.

“He’s married?” Tingting asked quietly.

“Not technically,” Duen said. “You’ve met him once, Ram. We saw them when we were at that conference in December last year.”

Ram did not remember nor particularly care.

After a couple weeks of time spent here with only with King and the flowers, it was almost strange having Duen and their other friends about. Was it weird for King, who had implied it had been much more than a few weeks since he had seen any of the rest of them? Even though he had just met them, he talked easily to Tingting and Phu when he was passing food or asking them about their jobs. Here, King was in his element, surrounded by friends.

Well, he didn’t know if _they_ were friends yet.

Calling himself an employee still didn’t seem right, but he didn’t know where that left them. What is someone who helps you out and lets you not talk when you don’t have to? Ram was never good with putting meaning into words.

Eventually Ram let his dogs out. In the yard, in the slowly encroaching evening, Duen and Bohn were playing with them, tossing balls and kneeling to give them hugs. Tee and Phu were sitting in the grass nearby, but talking to each other more than looking at the dogs. Ram sat on the steps with Tingting. Boss and Ram were still sitting at the table.

King passed beside Ram and walked in a dramatic arch to get to Tee and pass him the phone he had left on his chair. He was very much aware of the dogs but trying very hard to not to seem like he was bothered. One of them said something and King threw back his head in a laugh. 

“Oh, he’s handsome,” Tingting murmured, “don’t you think?

Objectively, sure. King was attractive. Lean, large smile, nice hair.

“You don’t?” she said, when he took too long to answer.

“He is,” Ram relented.

As though his ears were burning he turned their way. He waved when he saw them looking. Tingting waved back. Ram gave a nod.

When he came back on to the porch he picked up mostly empty plates into a pile and carried them inside. Boss hopped off the porch and ran at Bohn and Ram’s dogs. Ram watched with narrowed eyes before looking back behind them at the door.

“You going to help?” Tingting asked.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. Tingting got up and joined the others on the lawn. Ram slowly picked up the other used utensils and trash.

King was leaning on the counter with his arms locked straight. 

He was tired. 

He loved his friends, and really, he was ecstatic three of them could make it out, along with Duen, who was for all intents and purposes, a friend, and the others, as well.

That being said, h s mother had instilled an idea of proper hosting when he had been young and had him be a helping hand when the ladies from the community clubs or aunts and uncles and cousins would come around. With his own place, it felt only right he followed through like he was taught. 

It was so much work though. He had kept it simple this time, a little self-conscious with Ram’s curious and assessing eyes. 

He still went through with the over-preparing and the nice food, but he didn’t indulge as he would if it had just been Bohn and their old group pulling through for an annual/biannual get-together. All in all he didn’t do it enough for it to be second-nature, or for it to not mess with his whole schedule.

The door opened again. Ram, with what he hadn’t picked up. He pushed off the counter and took the things out of his hands.

“You doing okay?” King didn’t know if Ram, as a quiet person, also got overwhelmed when too many people were around for too long. 

He hummed and nodded. He still trying to help despite King’s attempt to take care of it all himself, and they were standing much too close.

He surprised King by asking, “Are you?”

He didn’t have time to answer before the door swung open.

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” It was Bohn.

He wasn’t, but the two of them quickly moved away from each other.

“Just passing through for the bathroom, don’t mind me!” he put his hands up and walked between them.

They made eye contact and both nodded at the same time and went back outside.

***

“You can stay the night if you’d like. There’s space for everyone, or, enough space, at least.”

“It’s fine! Traffic will be better at this time than midday tomorrow, you know?”

“If you say so,” King said skeptically.

Everyone crowded into the car they had come in and with dramatic waves from the windows they pulled off into the night. 

King let out a breath that deflated his whole body and dramatically slouched his posture. “I would say we could put off cleaning until tomorrow, but . . .” King gave an apologetic smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had a few mid scene perspective switches, hope they read okay!


End file.
